


Appointment in Samarra

by Shulik



Category: Supernatural
Genre: Gen
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2012-02-13
Updated: 2012-02-13
Packaged: 2017-10-31 03:06:31
Rating: Not Rated
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,417
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/339175
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Shulik/pseuds/Shulik
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>Death drops the dice, each time they land a little differently.</p>
            </blockquote>





	Appointment in Samarra

* * *

Death steals around them. She is the shadow of a beautiful brunette skirting around the edges of the battles with a badly hidden sneer and a desire to rend and tear. Her lips are blood red, twisted in a smirk of contempt for their fighting. For their constant desire to live, to survive and to see the future. 

Death mocks them. 

He is a thin man. Nothing really, only a time keeper. A walking record of history, a walking warning to those that would scorn at the belief in his existence. He is shadowless, relentless, he is everything and nothing at once. 

He looks at the Winchesters, he sees their fighting, their loneliness and their unending willingness to die for each other. 

They have gone to hell for one another, they have given up the world for one another- stupid and yet their light calls to him. It shines, a beacon of hope in a world of dirty mediocrity and Death notices them. 

They are tiny, insignificant specks of dust in his vision and yet- he sees them. He knows them. He helps them and they clear his way of the meddlesome child that is Lucifer with his tantrums. 

The dust becomes worms, useless really but interesting. You kill a worm, and it keeps wriggling on, life force doubling with every strike against it. A Winchester’s like that, a worm struggling to make something of itself no matter how many times it is attacked for being insignificant. 

Death forgets about them the moment that he gets his ring back. He goes about his business, collecting souls and dispersing them to the appropriate authorities. Heaven and its rebelling inhabitants doesn’t touch him, hell doesn’t concern him. 

It is nothing. A shade of an emotion against his skin, a whisper of an idea into his ear and Death is nothing. 

He is everything. 

So when Death descends into Hell, he is somewhat surprised to see Samuel Winchester standing in front of him. Death _looks_ into him and sees the leering skull of Lucifer peeking through the layers of the insignificant worm that he’s wrapped up so tight around him. 

“Hi uncle,” Lucifer grins and strolls towards him. “Been a long, long time…” he says and considers Death at an arm’s length, “I hear I have _you_ to thank for this.” 

He gestures around him at the domain of hell. 

It is nothing that Death hasn’t seen before. He was there when heaven and hell came into creation, he was there when Creation decided to become a little personal and created a whole legion of these too big for their britches hellions, Lucifer being one of the first. 

Death was there when Creation brought forth God. Death was there at the beginning and he will be there at the end. He will finish what was started in a moment of curiosity and maybe then, Death will have his rest. 

“Interesting,” Death says and eyes Lucifer, eyes wintry and features impassive. 

Lucifer was always his most favorite of God’s warriors, too cocky for a humble being of light and Grace, too vicious for a savior. Too human. 

It’s entirely too bad that Lucifer hates the humans with a passionate grudge that’s lasted for _thousands_ of years- they could all be descended from him. From his sins. From his weaknesses. So violent, debauched, impassive, ignorant and willingly blind- the whole race is a fascination. 

“You like it?” Lucifer ghosts his hand over Samuel’s face and smirks, “Custom made.” 

Death extends his palm, really- only a frivolity, he needs no form, he only prefers the look of his current shape, and touches Lucifer’s forehead. Ahhh. There it is…

_OhgodDeansavemeIhopeyourealrightImissyouIloveyouOhDeanDeanDeanDeanImsorrysorrysorrysorryforeversorryItburnssobrightDeanithurtssomuchandImsosorry_

“He’s still inside?” Death asks as Lucifer stumbles back from him, spitting mad, flinging fire and brimstone as he tries to orient himself after the intrusion. 

Demons pause in their activities and their glances are telling. Nobody likes it when Death takes longer than necessary down here. Their tricks are nothing to him, he’s seen it all, he’s done it all and none of this foolishness with the mortals screaming and begging and howling their pain, is even remotely interesting to him anymore. 

“Yes!” Lucifer spits out, smoothing back the too long fringe of Samuel Winchester. “He’s _always_ here, always _talking_ , yelling, _laughing_.” The devil gives a sharp bark of laughter and raises his arms in a bid for attention, Lucifer has always been such a vainglorious creature, “But there is _nowhere_ for him to go!” he yells out. “He’s _stuck_ with me!” his eyes gleam a bright red as the demons howl and stomp their approval at this. “For eternity!”

As pandemonium breaks out around them, Death thinks of Samuel’s elder brother’s weary gaze, he thinks of their father with his vendetta and their mother with her secrets. They were destined for this from the very beginning, their line has started for this moment and it is pure luck that Lucifer finished last. 

Death thinks of his ring, he thinks of the inability to reap and the chaos that reigned upstairs for the last months, he thinks of brothers, Creation and destiny. 

As Lucifer roars a command at a dark haired brunette slinking along a blood stained corridor, Death closes his eyes. 

‘Samuel?’

_Oh god, who’s there?’_

‘It does not matter. Do you want to live again?’ 

_’I…I , I don’t deserve to live again. This is my payback, this is my destiny._ ’

‘Do you want to see your brother again?’ 

The silence stretches thin as Death watches the Devil saunter to a mortal and begin ripping off the man’s skin, strip by unfortunate strip as the man screams. Lucifer leans closer, taking the man into his arms in a grotesque parody of a warm hug “Shh…” he croons to the crying man’s ears, “it will only hurt a bit.”

And then he bites off the man’s ear, leaving a gushing fountain of blood and incoherent murmurs and animal like whimpers. The demon standing there smiles, her wide lips malice personified as Lucifer traces a hand along her cheek “Ruby…my beautiful Ruby…” The devil leans closer into the beautiful demon’s face and rubs his cheek against hers with affection, “You did good Ruby.” 

Death can feel Samuel’s wretchedness and his despair and his faithlessness. Death deals in despair, death deals in the end- these are his emotions and they call to him like a beacon. 

‘I could give you back Dean,’ Death says, thinking of a tiny little flobberworm, wriggling madly on the end of a hook, with the desperation of small creatures everywhere, trying to survive and thrive, and get further. 

There is no belief left in the man, no hope, no faith, no desire except the burning wish for his brother. Even while sharing a body with Lucifer, while trapped in hell- Samuel’s only wish is for his big brother. 

Death feels, never let it be said that he doesn’t, but it is _rare_ and _precious_ that he feels for mortals. They’re so fleeting and interchangeable, a blur of faces running into one smooth line over time. 

Death supposes that Samuel’s trepidation is quite understandable. He glances over at Lucifer who’s occupied with ripping out the man’s eyeballs and gifting them to the brunette Ruby. Death opens a shade of himself to Samuel, a whisper of an idea that fills the poor mortal’s mind and threatens to kill him yet again. 

‘ _It’s **you**_.’ Samuel breaths out. 

Love,despair,pain, loyalty, faith, hope, fear, rage, betrayal, sadness, destiny, destiny, destiny- the emotions pouring off the shade that is Samuel Winchester's soul are thick and heady. It is a wonder that he's managed to keep the grasp on himself that he has, existence entwined with the essence of evil, soul forever bound and lonely within the recesses of Lucifer's mad mind. 

‘Do you want to see Dean?’

‘ _Oh god yes. More than anything._

“Lucifer,” Death calls out to Satan and the demons around them hush in their bacchanalia. Though the devil may be their father, Death was there when Lucifer was merely an idea floating through the ether. There is a silence as Satan saunters back, cocky as hell and dripping blood and white matter into nothingness. 

“Yes uncle? You’re done with business?” Lucifer- Death’s favorite creation, his favorite violent little toy, his uppity thorn in the side, his _peon_ , so confident until the very end. 

“Not quite yet,” says Death and touches Samuel Winchester’s forehead and the world changes around them.


End file.
